Closure
by bookwormlady
Summary: My first Bones multi-chapter fanfic. What I think should have happened to resolve the last two episodes of Season 3. Takes place between Seasons 3 and 4.
1. The dream

A/N: This is my first multi-chapter fiction in the Bones universe! I hope you find it worth reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. I just enjoy the show and I'm taking a moment to play in their sandbox.

_As he walked towards the group gathered in Arlington National Cemetery, he realized he was getting a glimpse of his own funeral. _

_For some reason, it didn't bother him very much._

_There was a flag draped coffin with an honor guard standing by. Parker stood tall and straight, his hand in Rebecca's. Booth could tell his son was trying to be brave and not cry._

_The Squint Squad was there in full force as well: Cam, dressed in black, looking somber; Zack in an orange prison jumpsuit with his hands encased in black gloves; Hodgins in jeans and olive green dress shirt next to Angela who was decked out in a flirty red dress…_

_Wait. Not everyone was there._

_He walked up to Angela. "Angela? Where's Bones?"_

_She turned to him with a sympathetic expression. "Oh, sweetie, you know she couldn't be bothered to come to your funeral."_

_He was hurt. "But…we're partners. And…friends."_

_Angela shrugged. "Maybe you were, but you're dead now, hon. Dead and forgotten."_

_"Shh!" Hodgins said. "They're about to do the 21 gun salute!"_

_Sure enough, the honor guard was preparing to fire their rifles. They pointed them in the air, pulled the triggers…and the guns emitted a buzzing sound._

_Huh?_

Booth opened his eyes. His alarm clock blared on the nightstand, insisting he wake up and start his day. With a growl, he slammed his fist down on the "off" button.

He sat up, scrubbing his face with his hands. He had all kinds of dreams – nightmares, if he was honest – but that one had been strange. Strange and disturbing.

Ever since he'd had to fake his death and didn't tell Bones about it, her reaction had bugged him. When she first saw him in the cemetery, alive and well, her reaction hadn't been happiness or relief – it had been fury. And even he'd explained everything she hadn't said anything about being glad he was alive.

She wouldn't have even come to his funeral if Angela hadn't insisted!

Sweets would probably say something like the dream revealed his unresolved hurt feelings about Bones' lack of emotional response. That is, Sweets would say something like that assuming Booth was ever crazy enough to TELL the doctor about the dream!

The thing was, he remembered her face above him when he was losing consciousness after he got shot. She'd been crying, pleading with him to hang on. She'd seemed to care then. Why not after?

Booth shook his head. He tossed off the covers and spent a couple of minutes stretching. Then, still in a t-shirt and blue boxers, he dropped to the floor and began to do pushups.

His partner might confuse him, but exercise didn't.


	2. Initial Confrontation

A/N: I am overwhelmed and humbled by the responses to my stories. Thank you all who reviewed, all who read, all who added this to your alerts and/or favorites.

So here's another chapter for you. Please don't get accustomed to two chapters in one day. grin

Disclaimer: I own a lot of things, but the show "Bones" isn't one of them.

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Two women retrieved their suitcases from the baggage claim at Ronald Reagan National Airport. Both appeared to be in their late forties or early fifties. One carried a large black purse, her dark hair pulled back in a bun. The second woman had a laptop case slung over her shoulder, her short dark blond hair looking somewhat rumpled.

"Let's see," the blond woman said. "We need to figure out where our hotel shuttle will pick us up…"

"No," the other woman said, shaking her head. "We need to find a taxi."

The blond woman frowned. "Molly, the shuttle's free. A taxi isn't."

"A shuttle won't take us to the Jeffersonian," Molly replied.

"Oh…Molly, wait," the blond woman said, moving to stand in front of her companion. "We've both been up since 6 this morning, the flight had nothing resembling edible food, and you look as tired as I feel. Let's go to the hotel, get settled, relax. I'll make some calls…"

Molly shook her head. "Carol, that woman is one of the main reasons I came here. I'm going to see her. If you want to go to the hotel, fine. I'm going to the Jeffersonian."

Both woman stared at each other, neither moving. Then Carol sighed. "Okay. If you're bound and determined to do this, I'll go with you – I promised Arthur I'd help you and take care of you." She raised a warning finger. "But Molly – let me do the talking. You're not exactly calm about this."

Molly's chin quivered. "Can you blame me for not being calm?"

"No," Carol said. "I don't blame you. But please accept it might be clouding your judgment. And trust me. I said I'd help."

For a minute, Molly said nothing. Then she nodded, wiping her eyes. "Fine. You do the talking. As long as that woman gives me answers."

#

When Booth got to the Jeffersonian later that morning, he found Bones, Hodgins, and Cam on the platform working on a body that had been found in an overgrown vacant lot the day before.

"Morning, everyone!" he said, swiping his card and bounding up the stairs. "We got anything?"

"Not yet, Booth," Brennan said, her attention focused on the corpse in front of her. She was probing the skull with a metal scalpel.

Booth watched her a moment. She was so calm, so detached, as she studied the murder victim. He knew she maintained that distance to do her job. He admired her for it – it was so hard for him to put distance between him and those who fell victim to evil men and women.

He just wished she didn't extend that distance into her personal life.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan," Dr. Sweets was coming towards the platform, standing at the foot of the stairs waiting to be invited in.

"What do you need, Sweets?" Booth asked, feeling a little irritated. The sight of Sweets reminded him of his dream that morning, and he really didn't want to think about that.

"I just wanted to remind you and Dr. Brennan about our appointment at 4:00 o'clock today," the young doctor said.

"And you had to come all the way to the Jeffersonian to do that?" Booth asked. He held up his cell phone. "You know what this is for, right?"

Sweets grimaced. "I've noticed you don't answer your phone if you know it's me."

Booth smirked. That was true enough. "Okay. Four o'clock. That good for you Bones?"

"That's fine," Bones answered, not bothering to look up.

Sweets looked from Brennan, who was being very careful not to look at Booth, and the FBI agent, who was studying his partner, a line appearing between his eyes.

Oh yeah. He was gonna have to help them deal with the fallout from Booth's fake death. Hopefully he'd be able to do it without Dr. Brennan spilling his part in the problem. Looking at Booth's large hands as he rested them on his belt, Sweets had no doubt that if Booth wanted to he could hurt Sweets very, very badly.

Brennan could feel Booth's gaze on her. She concentrated on the body in front of her, looking for signs of trauma. She didn't want to talk to Booth at the moment. Or Sweets.

She was tempted to tell Sweets to forget about any more sessions. After he'd withheld information from her about Booth being alive when she thought he'd died, she wasn't sure she trusted the young doctor anymore.

And Booth…she felt a spike of anger when she remembered that HE hadn't bothered letting her know he was all right. She didn't care that he hadn't even spoken to Parker in that two weeks, though of course the child wasn't told he was dead. Parker was a child. She was an adult. And she thought he would be considerate enough to make sure she knew he was fine.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan looked up to see one of the Jeffersonian's security guards at the foot of the stairs. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you but a Carol Murphy is here asking if she could talk to you for a moment."

Brennan frowned. "I don't know a Carol Murphy. Did she say what it was about?"

The guard shrugged. "She said it was personal. She and another woman look like they came straight from the airport. I went through their bags – no weapons or anything like that."

Booth's eyes narrowed. "Did you get the name of this 'other woman?'"

"Yeah, a Molly Nunan." The guard looked up at Brennan. "What should I tell them, Doctor?"

_Nunan…_why did that name ring a bell with her? Brennan sighed and put down her scalpel. "I'll give them a minute," she said as she stripped off her gloves.

To her surprise Booth fell in step next to her as she headed to the front of the Jeffersonian. "What?"

"Something about this bothers me," Booth muttered.

Brennan saw the two women standing next to a couple a large suitcases. "Come on, Booth they hardly look like terrorists."

He ignored her and walked right up to the women, sticking out his hand. "Hello, I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth. What can I do for you?"

The blond woman put her laptop case on the floor and shook Booth's hand. "Hello, Agent Booth. I'm Carol Murphy." She extended a hand to Brennan. "Dr. Brennan, thank you for speaking with us."

Brennan looked from one woman to the other. The other woman, named Nunan (why did that name sound familiar?) was staring at her. The gaze was intense, as if she were trying to memorize every feature.

The stare was unnerving. Brennan gave attention to Carol Murphy. "I was told you had something personal to discuss?"

Murphy shifted from foot to foot. "Dr. Brennan…I really think it would be better to discuss this someplace more private."

"You're not discussing anything with Dr. Brennan without me present," Booth said.

"I didn't mean that," Murphy said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Brennan could still see the Nunan woman was staring at her. Something about her…"Excuse me, have we met?"

The dark haired woman stepped right up to Brennan. Murphy took a step towards her, a look of concern on her face.

It happened fast.

The dark-haired woman's right hand flew up, slapping Brennan soundly on the cheek.

"HEY!" Booth roared, pulling Brennan back away from the woman who burst into tears. Carol Murphy grabbed the woman by the shoulders. "Molly!"

Molly Nunan pointed a shaking finger at Brennan over Carol Murphy's shoulder. "YOU KILLED MY DAUGHTER!!"

The words struck Brennan like bullets. She took a step back, feeling a chill sweep over her. She saw a look of horror fill Booth's face.

"Nunan…Pam…" Brennan whispered. "Pam Nunan was your daughter."


	3. Flashback

**A/N: Once again, you guys rock. Hope you continue to enjoy this - please don't hesitate to let me know!**

**Disclaimer: Yup, still not mine.**

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In her mind's eye, Brennan was suddenly back in The Checker Box.

_The pianist on the brightly lit stage was belting out a jaunty version of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." People sat at round tables, drinking and snacking._

_Among them were her colleagues. No…her __**friends**__. Angela, laughing and applauding while Hodgins sat next to her with a big grin on his face. Cam sat with them, looking happy for a change._

_Zack and Sweets shared a table. Zack was smiling and bobbing his head to the music. Sweets grinned broadly, appearing pleased with what he was seeing._

_And up in front sat Booth. He was smiling at her, dark eyes sparkling as he gave her his enthusiastic attention. He'd arranged this opportunity for her, and appeared to be having as good a time as she was._

_And she __**was**__ having a good time. She'd been doubtful at first, but as she belted out the words, she found herself getting into the moment. As she danced around the stage, she let the music carry her, feeling more out of herself than she had in a long time. She hopped to the music, holding a note…_

_And then she heard the shot._

_She stopped as the music from the piano was replaced by screams and the sound of chairs scraping on the floor. Her eyes went to where the shot had come from._

_Pam Nunan stood there, a look of horror on her face. She held a gun pointed right at Brennan._

_No…someone stood between them. Dark hair, broad shoulders…__**no**__._

_The mike fell unnoticed from her hand. She rushed down the steps. He was standing. Maybe he was okay._

_She saw he held his gun at his side. As she got a glimpse of his pale face he collapsed on the stairs of the stage._

_She went down with him. Where, where was the wound…something made her look up._

_Pam Nunan met her gaze. The stalker's face twisted in rage, and in that instant Brennan knew that the bullet hadn't been met for Booth. Pam wanted to kill __**her**__._

_She saw the gun come up. Before she could think about it she snatched up Booth's gun and fired. She saw her attacker's mouth open in a soundless scream, the gun dip down._

_Satisfied that Pam wasn't a threat any longer, Brennan turned back to her partner. She heard people running, screaming, Hodgins telling someone to call 911. But all her attention was on the man laying in front of her._

_She pressed her hands on the spreading red stain on his upper chest. __**Too much blood**__…"Booth, it's gonna be okay," she said. She kept talking as panic crept up her spine. She grabbed one of his hands, needing to feel his weak squeeze as much as he needed to feel her._

_She could see he was going into shock. She grabbed him and pulled his body to her. It wasn't logical, but some part of her thought if she embraced him she could give him warmth, life…_

_She lay him back down, grabbing his hand again. His brown eyes were wide, filled with pain and confusion. She pressed on the wound, warm red blood spilling over her fingers. "Come on Booth…come on…"_

_She saw his eyes become unfocused, closing. His hand in hers went limp. _

"_No! Booth!"_

"Sweetie?"

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**A/N2: If you don't review, nothing bad will happen to me. My family will still love me, I will still be a Christian, and Bones will still be on the air. Still, a review would be nice...**


	4. Conflict and Compromise

**A/N: New chappie. Thanks again for your support and encouragement...**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own the show. Or the characters. I have no intention of stealing from Fox. **

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Brennan blinked. Angela had an arm around her shoulders, her almond eyes wide with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I…I guess," Brennan stammered. She suddenly realized that a crowd had gathered in the large entrance to the Jeffersonian. Cam and Hodgins were behind Angela. Sweets stood next to a couple of security guards.

No one aside from Angela seemed to be paying any attention to Brennan. The sound of her partner's angry voice alerted her to the trio that was claiming everyone's interest.

#

Booth's trembling fists were at his side. "I don't care who you are, you can't just walk in here and assault someone!"

Molly Nunan's head barely came up to his chin, but the expression on her tear-stained face was defiant. "She killed my daughter! Why is she allowed to get away with it?"

Carol Murphy stood between Booth and Pam's mother. She had a hand out to each of them and kept trying to speak. Booth frankly didn't care what she had to say – his concern was with the perceived threat in front of him.

"Ma'am –" The "ma'am" came to his lips automatically, the result of his grandfather drilling into his head that you always treated a woman with respect (good thing or he would have been tempted to knock her flat after she slapped Bones), "- I suggest you turn around and walk out of here before I say some things I'll regret – or I decide to arrest you for assault."

Carol Murphy's eyes widened. Molly Nunan appeared unfazed. "Of course! Arrest me for just hitting someone while not doing anything to _her_."

"Mrs. Nunan, Dr. Brennan shot your daughter in self-defense," Booth said, his patience just about at an end. He didn't say what he was thinking – _you're daughter was a whack job who stalked me and tried to kill my partner_. He wasn't a cruel man, he hoped he wouldn't have to resort to that.

"Of course, that's what you would say! I suppose Dr. Brennan is worth more to the FBI than my daughter!" Molly's Nunan's tears were flowing again. "I just want the truth!"

"Ma'am, I assure you that the truth was told!" Booth decided that this woman was leaving the Jeffersonian if he had to arrest her like he'd threatened. He began to reach for his handcuffs.

"Do you mean the same truth as that she killed you?" Molly Nunan's tear-choked voice was filled with sarcasm. "You look quite alive to me, Agent Booth."

That statement stopped him. He had forgotten about that.

Seeing a small silence, Carol Murphy jumped in. 'Excuse me, this is going badly, could we please just all step back – and – and start over?" She shot a glance at Bones.

Booth turned around and saw Bones' expression for the first time. He swore to himself. He'd been engaged in a shouting match with a crazy woman's mother while Bones was standing there freaking out.

He came over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. He didn't like how pale she was, how her eyes were filled with pain. "Bones? Bones, it's okay, let's get you out of here."

Brennan shook her head. She knew Booth was worried about her, but she didn't want him to fuss over her. "I'm all right, Booth. Really, I'm fine."

"You don't need this," Booth insisted. "I'll get you to your office and then I'll get rid of these people."

"You don't need to treat me like I'm fragile!" Brennan snapped.

Booth stared at her, his dark eyes wide. "Bones, I'm not saying you're fragile. I'm saying you don't need this crap right now."

"Isn't that for me to decide?"

Before Booth could reply Carol Murphy spoke. "Excuse me. Dr. Brennan?"

To Brennan's frustration, Booth stepped in front of her, as if to stand between her and a threat. She was annoyed – and frightened. _I don't want him to do that again. I don't want… _

She stepped to one side so her partner's body was no longer blocking her view. Carol Murphy was staring at Booth, her eyes wide. She was holding a cream colored business card in her hand. Molly Nunan was staring at the floor, an occasional sob causing her shoulders to shake.

Brennan saw how both women's shoulders drooped, the circles under Carol Murphy's eyes. She realized that both women were on the brink of exhaustion. An unwanted stab of sympathy went through her.

"Dr. Brennan," Carol Murphy said, speaking as if she were testing each word before letting it out of her mouth, "This is my business card. On the back I've written my cell phone number, and also the name of an FBI agent I know from the Orlando, Florida office."

"And you want Dr. Brennan to do…what with this?" Booth asked, his arms folded across his chest.

"Agent Booth," Carol Murphy said, "I would like you to check me out as thoroughly as you feel you need to so that you understand I'm no threat to you or Dr. Brennan." She turned back to Brennan. "Once Agent Booth is satisfied, if you're willing, Dr. Brennan, maybe we could meet and talk? Mrs. Nunan and I will be in Washington until the end of the week."

"And if Dr. Brennan doesn't want to talk to you?" Booth asked.

"Booth…" Brennan said, seeing him in full alpha male mode and finding it upsetting for some reason.

"Bones, let me handle this," Booth said.

Carol Murphy sighed. The hand that held the business card out drooped slightly. "Of course, it's her decision."

Molly Nunan's head came up. "But…"

Carol Murphy turned her head to her companion and shook her head. "You need to trust me on this, Molly. I'm trying to salvage this and avoid having to call Arthur and ask for money to bail you out of jail."

"If you want to avoid jail I think it's time for the two of you to leave," Booth said.

Brennan was torn. She was being flooded with emotions – guilt, fear, anger, sorrow…and Booth just steamrollering over everything wasn't helping her sort them out. But she was paralyzed by the feelings flooding over her.

Sweets suddenly stepped forward. "Hi. I'm Dr. Lance Sweets, and I work with the FBI." He plucked the card out of Carol Murphy's hand. "I'll consult with Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan. If a meeting is indicated, you'll be contacted."

"Sweets!" Booth said, staring at the kid. Brennan was stunned. What was Sweets up to?

"Thank you," Carol Murphy said softly. She looked one more time at Booth and Brennan. Brennan had the impression the woman wanted to say something else. Instead she gave them a slight nod. "Come on, Molly."

Both women gathered up their luggage and plodded to the front of the Jeffersonian. After getting an confirming nod from Booth, the security guards went after them.

Sweets came up to Brennan. "Dr. Brennan, I think we should take a few minutes to process this."

"No," Booth said, "I think I should take Bones to her office and you should go do whatever it is you do when you're not harassing us."

"Would you both stop?" Brennan said. "I'm fine. I have work to do."

"Uh-uh, Dr. Brennan," Cam said with a shake of her head. "I think you should take a brief break before getting back to work."

"Cam, I'm fine!" Brennan insisted. Why was everyone treating her like some crybaby? She might be upset, she might feel like crying – who wouldn't after what just happened? But she could compartmentalize, didn't anyone remember that?"

"Perhaps I wasn't clear," Cam said, her arms folded. "Let me put it to you this way: you either permit Seeley to take you to your office for a 10 minute break or you take the rest of the day off."

Brennan's mouth dropped open. "But I'm -"

"Fine, I heard you," Cam said. "But I'm still your boss."

Booth shot Cam a grateful look. "C'mon Bones, let's not tick off your boss."

She rolled her eyes. "All right. Fine. I'll go to my office."

"Good girl," Booth said, placing a hand at the small of her back.

"I'm a woman, Booth, not a girl!"

Cam shook her head as the pair headed toward Brennan's office. She caught Sweet's eye and jerked her head towards the couple. The doctor nodded and trotted after them.

With a sigh, Cam noticed that Hodgins, Angela, and some grad students were still standing around. It was times like this that she felt less like the head of the most prestigious medical-legal lab in the country and more like the headmistress of a dysfunctional daycare.

"Okay people," she said, clapping her hands. "Let's get back to work."


	5. Discussion and Decisions

**A/N: Sorry for the long absence - I've been sick. Also doing some research trying to determine some questions I have about .**

**Disclaimer: I don't own "Bones." I intend no copyright infringement by posting this story.**

Booth ushered Brennan into her office. She went straight to her office chair and sat down, not looking at him.

As he turned to shut the door Sweets slipped in. Booth scowled. "Sweets, we said 4:00 o'clock, remember?"

The doctor shrugged as he sat down on the black couch. "I believe I can help Dr. Brennan deal with the incident that just occurred."

Booth frowned but decided he didn't have time to throw the brat out. He turned and studied his partner for a moment.

She was staring at her computer monitor, but not seeing it. Her hands twisted together in her lap. She was stiff in her chair, as if bracing herself for something.

What got to Booth were her eyes. They carried a stunned, haunted look. How many times had he seen that look in his own eyes when he looked in a mirror? Too many. More than he wanted to think about.

He knelt down in front of her. "Are you hurt? Let me see," he said, his hand under her chin turning her face so he could see where that crazy woman had slapped her.

Bones jerked her head away. "I'm fine, Booth. It doesn't really hurt anymore."

"Bones," he said softly. She didn't answer, her eyes back to the monitor, gazing into the pit he was familiar with. The last place she should be.

He didn't care that Sweets was sitting there, no doubt taking notes on this for whatever paper he planned to write. Booth cupped her small cool hands in his, rubbing them with his thumbs. "Temperance."

She turned at his use of her name. He continued. "Talk to me. Please."

She dropped her eyes to their joined hands. "I – I hadn't thought much about what I did that night. I was so – so focused on you, I didn't think about it. That I – killed her."

"It's okay, Bones," he said. He raised a hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

"No. It's not," she countered, finally meeting his eyes. "I took that woman's daughter away from her. I didn't think about it, didn't even consider trying to disarm Pam. If I'd been thinking, I could've stopped her without killing her -"

"Stop," he said, putting a finger to her lips. "Don't do this to yourself Bones."

"But -"

"No buts," Booth said, shaking his head. It wasn't that he didn't understand – how many nights had he lain in bed asking himself the same things? – but he knew from his own experience how useless it was.

"Bones, you can't second-guess yourself in something like this. You can't change what happened. And you have to trust that you did what you thought was right at the time. I trust your instincts. You did what you needed to do."

She stared at him, as if trying to find answers in his face. "What do I tell Molly Nunan?"

"Nothing," Booth said. "You don't owe her anything. I'll call her and the other gal and make it clear they need to stay away from you."

To his dismay, Bones shook her head. "I don't know if I can do that." She bit her lip. "Have you ever – did a family member ever -"

"No," Booth said, standing up quickly. He moved over to one of her bookcases, not willing to go where she was headed.

"Dr. Brennan, why do you feel you need to speak with Mrs. Nunan?"

Booth groaned. He'd forgotten about Sweets. He turned to glare at the young doctor, who was leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Brennan sighed. She raised her head and looked not at Sweets, but at Booth. She knew he was trying to help, and she appreciated it more than he knew. But she wanted him to understand this.

"What we do -" she started, her voice cracking. She swallowed and tried again. "We speak for the dead. We tell their stories. We give families the answers they need to have."

"Pam wasn't a murder victim," Booth said, hands on his hips.

"No," Brennan said. "But she's dead. And her mother obviously doesn't know her story. Who else can tell her besides me?"

Booth chewed his lip as he studied her. "I don't think you need to go near a woman who attacked you."

"It wasn't an attack," Sweets interjected.

Booth and Brennan stared at the young doctor. He sighed and continued. "Mrs. Nunan was expressing her deep and profound emotions at seeing the woman who took her daughter's life." After a pause, he carried it one step further. "It's similar to Dr. Brennan's striking you when she learned you hadn't really died."

The temperature in the office dropped several degrees. Sweets watched as Dr. Brennan studied her hands again, two red spots on her cheeks. Agent Booth frowned and looked at the office window. Several emotions flickered across his face. Anger, frustration, and – hurt?

Dr. Brennan broke the chilly silence. "Booth, I know you just want to protect me, but…but what if we spoke to this other woman first? The one who gave Sweets her card?"

Booth sighed. He strode over to Sweets and stuck his hand out. "Fine. I'll check her out and if she's harmless, we can set something up – with a few conditions."

"What conditions?" Brennan asked, a line appearing between her eyes.

"One," Booth said as he grabbed the business card. "I'm with you. You don't talk to this woman alone. And we do it at the Hoover Building, in an interrogation room."

Brennan thought about it a few seconds and nodded. "I think those conditions are fair."

"Good," Booth said. "And since Sweets decided to barge in here on our chat, I don't think we need to meet at 4. Right?"

"Wait," Sweets started.

That brought out a tiny smile on Brennan. "I think that's fair too."

The young doctor shook his head, disgusted. They'd outplayed him again. He got up and sighed. "Fine, but we really need to talk about this meeting." He started for the door, then hesitated. There was one other thing he'd wanted to talk about with them, but they were shutting him out now. Still, he could plant a seed…

"I saw Dr. Addy before I came here," he said, his eyes flicking between his two patients. "He asked me to send his regards."

Booth nodded. "Great, thanks Sweets."

Dr. Brennan said nothing, appearing to find something interesting on her computer.

Sweets paused, then went to the heart of the matter. "He mentioned that neither of you have been to see him yet."

"Well," Booth said, "You know, I've been busy with cases and stuff…" he stopped, and turned to stare at Dr. Brennan. "You haven't been to see him?"

She shook her head, her eyes still fastened to her computer screen. "No. As you just said, we've been quite busy and at the moment we are shorthanded…" She looked up finally. "I have a lot of work to do. Booth, will you let me know when you set up this meeting?"

Booth looked at her for a long moment, then appeared to decide not to push the matter. "Sure Bones. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Sure," she said, turning back to her computer.

"Okay," Booth said, watching her, able to tell she was still upset about Zack, but not able to talk to her about it right then.

As he followed Sweets out of her office, he thought again what crossed his mind when Sweets compared Molly Nunan's hitting Bones with his partner hitting him.

_At least Molly Nunan was expressing grief. Did Bones even care that I was supposed to be dead?_


	6. The Story of Pam Nunan

**A/N: Next chapter up! Hope you are still enjoying this. **

Brennan hugged herself as she looked through the two-way glass. Carol Murphy sat in the interrogation room, alone.

As she rubbed her tired eyes, Brennan fought a yawn. She'd had a difficult time sleeping last night, her thoughts consumed by thoughts of this meeting.

What would Carol Murphy tell her? Was this really such a good idea? Why was she putting herself through this? Didn't she have enough to deal with ?

Carol Murphy appeared fascinated by the geometric patterns of the walls of the room. The blond woman occasionally made a note in a spiral notebook she'd pulled out of her laptop case.

That fit with what Booth had told her. His background check revealed that Carol Murphy was a writer ("but nowhere near your stature" Booth had been quick to say). She'd had three novels published and a number of short stories. The FBI agent Booth contacted apparently said that Ms. Murphy was "okay."

"Hey," Booth said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, seeing the concern in his eyes.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he continued. "If you want, you can stay here and I'll talk with her."

Brennan sighed. She was tempted, very tempted…but she'd come this far. Sweets thought this was a good idea. Brennan didn't always give the psychologist's views a lot of weight. But given how unsettled she'd been these past few weeks, perhaps he had a point.

"I'm fine," she told her partner. "Let's see what she has to say."

Booth nodded and guided her into the interrogation room.

Carol Murphy looked up as the two of them came in. "Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan. Thank you for seeing me."

Brennan sat down across from the woman, Booth next to her. "I hope Mrs. Nunan understood why she wasn't asked to be here," Booth said.

Carol Murphy sighed. "I won't lie to you, she wasn't happy. But she understands that her behavior yesterday made things more difficult." She turned to Brennan. "Dr. Brennan, I don't know if this will mean much to you, but I want to apologize for yesterday. One of the reasons I came with Molly was to keep something like that from happening. I failed."

Booth snorted. "What are you, Molly Nunan's keeper?"

Carol's face flushed. "I'm her friend, Agent Booth."

"And Pam?" Brennan finally found her voice. "Were you Pam's friend too?"

"Pam…" Carol's shoulder's drooped. "Pam…is a complicated story."

"Were you aware that she exhibited signs of mental instability?" Brennan asked. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Booth's eyes widen and realized she might have spoken with unnecessary bluntness. But it was a fair question.

Carol was tracing invisible patterns on the gray table with her capped pen. "That's also complicated. The answer's yes…and no."

Brennan frowned. "I don't understand."

"I know," Carol said. "Look, I can try to explain it, but it means discussing some history. I'll be honest with both of you, Arthur and Molly have ok'd it. I'm hoping after you know everything you can help me."

"Help you?" Booth said. "Help you with what?".

"Help me help Molly accept the truth," Carol said. "She's in denial, you must see that. I've tried to help her understand, but she's fighting me and everyone else."

"What makes you think we can help?" Brennan asked. "Mrs. Nunan is blaming me for Pam's death. She won't care what I think."

"That may be true," Carol said. "But I think once you understand what's going on, you might be able to help me help her accept the truth – as hard as it is for her."

"The truth being?" Booth asked, leaning forward.

Carol swallowed. Brennan saw sadness in the woman's eyes. "I'm sorry, Agent Booth, would it be okay if I had water or something to drink?"

Booth frowned. "You know this isn't exactly a social call."

"I…of course," Carol said, her eyes dropping to her hands.

"Booth, I wouldn't mind some coffee," Brennan said. She was a little disturbed at Booth's rudeness.

"Fine," Booth rolled his eyes. He went to the door and catching the attention of an agent in the hall asked for three coffees. The three of them sat in uncomfortable silence until the beverage arrived.

After a moment of sipping coffee, Carol spoke. "I first met Arthur, Molly, and Pam when they moved to Florida ten years ago. They became members of our congregation. My husband and I helped with the youth group. That's when we first realized Pam…she had problems."

"What kinds of problems?" Brennan asked. Murphy wasn't looking at her or Booth. She seemed to be looking far away, as if she was seeing what she was describing to them.

"Pam was born to Molly and Arthur after they were told they'd never be parents. They called her their 'miracle baby.'" Carol said softly. "They spoiled her some, but when we got to know Pam we realized her problems were more than that."

"What about the Nunans?" Booth asked. "Did they know that?"

"Not at first," Carol said, shaking her head. "I got concerned about Pam after a while – she had this need to be the center of attention, everyone looking at her and admiring her. She was very demanding in her relationships with others – she wanted first place in peoples' thoughts and time. When she didn't get it, she got very offended."

"You shared this with her parents?" Brennan asked. She felt uncomfortable, trying to match the violent woman she'd killed with the troubled teenager Carol was talking about.

"Of course," Carol said. "We got to be good friends. They thought I was worrying too much, or other people were blowing things out of proportion. Until the Sunday morning Pam started screaming at another teenager in the foyer. When she lunged at the girl, Arthur grabbed Pam to stop her. She bit her dad on the hand."

"I guess Pam's parents couldn't ignore that," Booth said with a smirk. He took a swallow of his drink.

Carol frowned at Booth. "It's not funny, Agent Booth. But you're right. They got her to a psychiatrist. She was diagnosed with mental pathologies and she underwent a course of counseling and medication."

"And it failed?" Brennan asked. She sighed, shaking her head.

"No," Carol said sadly. "It worked."

Booth and Brennan swapped confused looks. "I don't understand," Brennan said. "If she got better…"

"She did," Carol said. "She settled down, became a joy to be around. Gained a lot of weight due to the medications, but no one cared. Arthur and Molly were ecstatic. It was a miracle."

"So what happened?" Booth asked, leaning forward.

"Well, Pam graduated from school, got her degree, and moved to DC. I'd see her sometimes when she came to visit. At first it all seemed okay, but after a while, I noticed things."

Brennan rubbed her temples. "Did she stop taking her medications?"

Carol wiped her eyes. "I suspected that at first. I noticed she was dropping weight, but when I asked Arthur and Molly they told me everything was fine. When I saw Molly for the last time, I confronted her. She seemed…so odd."

Booth raised his eyebrows. "Good call, Bones. So, did she confess?"

Carol swirled her cooling coffee in her cup. "She laughed and said she didn't need it anymore, she'd found her true love, he was all the medication she needed." She shrugged. "I tried to warn Arthur and Molly that Pam was possibly hurting herself but they were so excited that she'd found someone they wouldn't listen."

Brennan shook her head. "People often stop taking helpful medication when they're feeling better. They then decompensate in their lives."

"I think that's what happened," Carol said. She drew a shuddering breath and a tear spilled down her face. "The next thing I heard about Pam was an hysterical phone call from Molly, telling me Pam had been shot dead."

"By me," Brennan whispered.

Carol nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Yes."


	7. Mother and Child

**A/N: I'm amazed and humbled by the response to this story. Thank you everyone!**

Booth shifted uneasily in his chair as the woman in front of him and Bones wept. She was forcing him to see Molly Nunan in a new light – and he wasn't comfortable with that.

A glance over at Bones showed she was getting upset as well. He was trying to be a wall for her in this, so he chose to make his tone harsh as he said, "You know it was self-defense. Bo – Dr. Brennan had no choice."

Carol nodded, still wiping her eyes. "Yes, Agent Booth, I do know that."

"What?" he was surprised. He saw by her wide eyes that Bones was surprised as well.

"Wait a minute," he said, wondering what sick game this woman was playing. "I thought you were with Mrs. Nunan on this – that Bones was in the wrong! If you know that, what are you doing here!"

The woman looked chagrined. "What? Why…oh," she sighed, resting her head in her hands. "Of course you'd think that. I never made it clear."

"Could you explain?" Bones asked. "I really don't understand…"

Carol sighed. "I'll try. But both of you, please, I know you feel as if you have every right to be angry with Molly, but you have to see it from her point of view."

"Denial?" Booth snapped.

"Agent Booth, do you have children?" Carol's voice was angry.

He frowned. Parker's face rose in his mind. "Yes. What does that have to with this?"

Carol leaned forward, her arms on the table. "Imagine that you are told that your child, a child you've loved all their life, that you've tried your best to raise to be a good man or woman, has not only died, but died while doing something unspeakably evil. Would you be so quick to accept that? Or would you have doubts?"

Booth opened his mouth to retort but found no words. Carol Murphy was forcing him to see things from Molly Nunan's perspective – and he hated it. It was much harder to think of her as a crazy woman who attacked Bones for no reason.

"I understand," Bones said softly. Booth shot her a look of surprise. What was she talking about? She had no kids…then he saw the sadness in her eyes and he realized who she was thinking of. Zack, while not being her son, was her protégé – close enough for this.

Carol nodded. "Arthur and Molly couldn't believe the news reports – they were horrible for them. Molly wouldn't leave the house for days. Arthur had to come to DC to claim Pam's body, and couldn't even go into her apartment – the FBI said they were checking things out."

Booth nodded. "Wanted to make sure there hadn't been others."

Carol nodded. "Then I found out you weren't really dead, Agent Booth. I told Molly and Arthur – I thought it would help if they knew Pam hadn't killed someone."

"But it didn't," Booth said. He wondered how she'd found out – probably her FBI contact.

Carol shook her head. "Molly suspected a cover-up. She's normally not a person to buy into something like that, but she was still struggling with Pam's death. She couldn't believe her daughter would shoot anyone."

Carol sipped her coffee, and appeared to be thinking something over. With a sigh, she said, "Arthur was a little more…I guess you'd say rational about it. It upset him that Pam might do such a thing but he was beginning to accept it was possible. But for Molly's sake he asked me to do some investigating. So I got copies of the FBI and police reports -"

"You what?" Booth asked. "Hold on, how did you get those? The FBI reports aren't public records…"

She winced at his tone and said, "With all due respect, Agent Booth, I'd rather not answer that question. If you're going to arrest someone, you'll have to settle for me."

"Your contact at the FBI – do you have any idea of the laws he probably broke?" Booth demanded.

"Booth," Bones put a hand on his arm. "Don't."

"Bones –"

"How many times have you bent FBI protocols for me?" she asked. "Are you going to hop all over someone for doing the same thing?"

"It's 'jump', Bones. Jump all over someone," Booth said, rubbing his face with his hand. "Fine. We'll skip over that for now. Did the Nunans see the reports?"

"No!" Carol's eyes were wide. "I wouldn't put them through that. There were pictures, and…" she swallowed, shuddering a little. "I went over the reports myself and summarized them. Molly wanted to see them, but both Arthur and I convinced her it wouldn't help."

"But she isn't convinced," Bones said sadly. Booth put an arm around her shoulders. He knew it was crossing a line but she looked so small and defenseless sitting there. She'd had so much garbage tossed at her these past few weeks, he wished he could make it all stop for her.

"Dr. Brennan, I've tried. Arthur's tried. Molly is in so much pain…when the FBI notified them the apartment was no longer off limits Molly announced she was going to come to DC and get answers. Arthur begged her to wait – he couldn't leave work right now and was hoping she'd settle down. But she bought her ticket and was bound and determined to go no matter what."

"So you came instead," Booth said.

"Arthur asked me to," Carol said. "Paid for my ticket and everything." The woman took a deep breath and met Booth's eyes. "Agent Booth, I know you don't like us, and I guess part of me doesn't blame you – Molly behaved terribly yesterday. But I'm begging you to help my friend put her daughter to rest. For everyone's sake."

The three of them sat in silence for a long minute. Booth found himself starting to sympathize with this woman, in spite of his resisting it. He needed to focus on what was best for his partner.

As if his thoughts made her speak, Bones stirred next to him. "I promise I'll strongly consider it," she said. "I will say this – she's lucky to have a friend like you."

Carol ducked her head. "I – I thank you for that, Dr. Brennan. I think you and Agent Booth are lucky to have each other too. I can tell you are both close."

"We're just partners," Bones said.

Booth felt a little stab of pain when she said that. She was right – they were partners – but weren't they friends as well? Didn't she care anything about him, or was her lack of emotions towards him her way of making things clear?

"I see…" Carol looked from one to the other. "Well, I suppose I should go. Molly will be waiting for me to go to Pam's apartment."

Booth and Bones stood, and Booth had an agent escort Carol out. Before leaving the interrogation room, he studied Bones. She was pale, her gaze inward. "Hey," he said. "Penny for your thoughts."

She looked at him the corner of her mouth twitching. "You don't need to pay me for my thoughts, Booth."

He rolled his eyes. "It's a saying, Bones. And you know it."

She nodded. Then her smile vanished. "I'm wondering what I could say to help Molly Nunan. You know I'm not good with people, but Carol Murphy seems to think I can help."

"Well, maybe she's wrong," Booth said. "Maybe no one can."

"Maybe I should ask Sweets," Bones said. "Maybe he understands this."

Booth sighed. "Yeah, he's gonna want a report on this today, anyway. Come on, let's see how much we can get done on this case before he gets us under his microscope."


	8. Sweets Spills the Beans

**A/N: Another chapter - hope you're still sticking with me!**

**Disclaimer: Bones is owned by Hart Hanson and FOX. If they ever say to stop posting, I will.**

* * *

Dr. Lance Sweets glanced at his watch. Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth were due in a couple of minutes. He grabbed his yellow notepad and began to jot down some preliminary thoughts.

He was looking forward to seeing them, though at times they were his most annoying patients. He'd even gone so far as to go to Cullen and ask if he could have a cell phone scrambler to use while they were with him. The Director sympathized but ruled it out. He told the doctor he'd had to find a non-technical way to control his patients.

Sweets wondered how the meeting with Carol Murphy went. The first time he met Molly Nunan, he was struck by how she and Dr. Brennan were both dealing with the loss of loved ones and the actions they'd taken. He knew better than to say that out loud, though. Dr. Brennan wouldn't see it and Agent Booth would go ballistic.

Honest with himself, Sweets knew he was more worried about the doctor than the agent. Yes, Booth had some issues with her lack of emotional affect. But Dr. Brennan was hurting more, and she was finding it difficult to cope with all the emotional trauma she'd been through. Assuming she could admit she _was _going through emotional trauma.

The door to his office opened, and Agent Booth escorted Dr. Brennan inside. They both took their seats on the leather couch in front of his desk. Sweets noticed that Brennan seemed to be looking inward, while Booth kept sending glances her way, as if to check on how she was doing.

"Well, I'm glad you could come," Sweets said with a smile. The smile slipped slightly as he saw Booth check his cell phone with a hopeful expression.

With a sigh, Booth looked up. "Well Sweets, that was the deal."

"So I take it you met with Carol Murphy?"

"Yeah," Booth said. "We talked to her."

Sweets noticed that Booth was quick to answer him, leaning forward slightly. The psychologist turned his attention to the woman sitting next to the agent. "Dr. Brennan, have you drawn any conclusions from this meeting?"

Brennan was stiff, tense, her hands clutched together in her lap. She took a deep breath. "I can understand that Molly Nunan is a grieving mother. Ms. Murphy informed us that her daughter was on psychotropic medication and had probably stopped taking it before she – died."

"That comes as no surprise," Sweets said, jotting down some notes on the pad resting on his leg. "So, from this discussion and understanding of Mrs. Nunan, are you going to speak to her?"

Brennan spread her hands out. "Sweets, to be honest, I don't know what to tell her. Everyone seems to think I can help this woman but no one will tell me how."

"Everyone _doesn't_ think you can help her," Booth interjected. "_I_ don't think so."

"I have to disagree," Sweets said. "I believe that Dr. Brennan has a perspective to offer Mrs. Nunan that will help them both heal."

Booth looked skeptical, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. Dr. Brennan's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"Well, Dr. Brennan, in a sense, you too have recently suffered a loss," Sweets said. "You are also undergoing the grieving process."

"Hey, she didn't lose me," Booth argued. "I'm right here."

"I thought I lost you," Brennan murmured.

"Which wasn't my fault," Booth said. "And you seemed to handle it just fine."

Sweets saw Dr. Brennan wince at that comment. He decided to step in. "I think this could be a big step for you Dr. Brennan – a chance to empathize with someone and help them heal emotional wounds."

Booth scoffed. "That sounds like a load of crap to me, Sweets. Are you sure you're not trying some weird psychology mumbo-jumbo experiment?"

Sweets shook his head as he waved his hand. "Absolutely not, Agent Booth. Believe me, I learned my lesson last time."

Even before he saw the look of alarm on Dr. Brennan's face and the shock on Agent Booth's, Sweets knew he'd said too much. He clamped his mouth shut, and tried to think fast.

Booth's eyes narrowed. "What last time?" he asked quietly.

"I – I misspoke, that's all Agent Booth," Sweets said, waving a dismissive hand. "Dr. Brennan, don't you think it would be a good idea -"

He had never seen Booth move so fast. In a split second the agent was in front of his desk, his fists on the green blotter, looming over Sweets.

"What. Last. Time." He growled.

Sweets swallowed. He sometimes heard things, heard some of the gals at the Hoover building talk about people. He often heard them refer to Agent Booth's warm dark eyes.

Booth's eyes weren't warm at the moment. They were boiling. And if looks could kill Sweets would be a dead man.

"Booth –" Brennan spoke up. "Booth, Sweets didn't tell me you were alive as an experiment to see what my reactions would be."

Booth straightened up and turned to look at his partner. "What?"

"It's true," Brennan said. She was pale and worry was apparent on her face. "I figured it out and I told him never to do it again."

"You knew he did this?" Booth asked. His voice was harsh. "You knew he was experimenting with us and you didn't tell me?"

"Booth, I handled it. I knew you'd want to beat him up and I didn't want you to get in trouble –"

"So you think I can't control myself?" Booth asked. "Because I can't be all stone-faced at a friend's funeral and not give him one _hint_ I was sad when I thought he was dead and gone and act like it's no big deal that he's alive? Or is this another experiment you and Sweets cooked up? See how I'd feel when you acted like my living and dying isn't a big deal to you!"

"Booth!" Brennan looked shocked, her blue eyes wide. "Booth, I wouldn't do that!"

Scared or not, Sweets couldn't let Dr. Brennan take that hit. "Agent Booth, let me assure you –"

"Shut up!" Booth shouted, whirling and pointing a trembling finger at Sweets.

Sweets shrank back in his chair. Booth was shaking – _shaking_ – with rage. And all of it at the moment was focused on the psychologist, who felt sweat gather on his forehead and under his arms. Maybe he should grab the phone, call Security –

With one sweep of his arm, Booth sent all the objects on Sweets' desk crashing to the floor. He then reached over and grabbed the psychologist by his jacket, dragging him across the desk until their faces were inches apart.

"We are through Sweets," Booth said through gritted teeth. "Don't ever talk to me again or make me aware of your existence. You can just find yourself another lab rat to play with. I'm not gonna be it."

With that Booth shoved Sweets back into his chair so hard the chair rolled back to strike the bookcase behind him. Without another word Booth strode out of the office, ignoring Dr. Brennan, who called his name. With a slam of the door, Booth was gone.

Dr. Brennan turned and looked over at Sweets, pain and confusion plain on her face. Sweets knew they'd have to fix this. And he intended to – just as soon as he quit shaking.

* * *

**A/N2: Okay, so Sweets didn't get hit. Hope this was close enough! grin**


	9. Facing Uncomfortable Facts

**A/N: WOW! Thanks for the positive comments concerning the last chapter! It's something I wish they'd shown on the show...well, the whole story is, actually...**

**Disclaimer: "Bones" and its characters are the property of Hart Hanson and Fox. This is for entertainment purposes only.**

Brennan was stunned as she watched Booth leave. The things he said…did he really think that about her? She turned towards Sweets, confused, wondering if she should go after her partner…

Sweets' face was white as paper, and his hands trembled on the arms of his chair. His wide eyes were glued to the door Booth had just slammed.

Brennan decided that going after Booth in his heightened emotional state would be counterproductive at the moment. She needed to be sure Sweets was all right. Just as important, she wanted to make sure the psychologist had no plans to report Booth's actions to anyone – she was sure the FBI frowned on their agents intimidating their doctors.

"Sweets?" she asked, standing and stepping towards the desk. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Sweets squeaked, his voice a full octave higher than normal. He took a moment to clear his throat. "Yes, Dr. Brennan, I'm…I'm fine. I simply wasn't prepared for the depth of Agent Booth's anger."

She bent down and began to gather the papers, knickknacks, and other items that had landed on the floor. "You will have to admit you deserved it, Sweets. What you did to us was wrong."

"What about you?" Sweets asked. "Do you feel Agent Booth's anger at you is justified?"

She glanced up at him, frowning. Sweets' face was regaining its color as he leaned down and retrieved his notepad and pen.

"I don't understand why he said what he did," she said. Her eyes dropped back down to the items scattered on the carpet. "Why would he think I don't care about him?"

"You are a scientist who believes in evidence, correct?"

She gave Sweets an irritated look. "Of course I do. What does that have to do with Booth?"

"Let's examine the evidence Agent Booth has," Sweets said. He seemed to have recovered from Booth's attack; he sat back in his chair, pad on his knee, pen clicking.

Brennan stood and dumped the items she'd picked up on Sweets' desk. She flopped back onto the couch. "Fine. The fact I'm still his partner? That we still work together?"

"First, let's go back to the funeral," Sweets suggested.

"The _fake_ funeral," Brennan corrected.

"The fake funeral," Sweets allowed. "You displayed no signs of distress or sorrow. In fact, you later referred to your presence there as 'a waste of time.'"

"Because he wasn't really dead!"

"You didn't know that at first," Sweets said. "And when you saw he was alive, your visible emotional response wasn't relief or happiness, but anger."

"Because I felt manipulated!" Brennan argued.

"Dr. Brennan," Sweets said. "I know how _you_ felt. I'm asking you to look at the evidence from Agent Booth's perspective. What would your actions indicate to _him_?"

She started to answer, but paused. She frowned. She wasn't Booth. She used her head, not her heart. How could she see things from his perspective?

"I don't know how to do what you're asking," she said.

Sweets sighed. "Let me put it this way. Let's say Booth thought you were dead. If he acted at your funeral as you behaved at his, what would you think?"

She tried to imagine it. "I'd let him know I wasn't really dead."

"Dr. Brennan," Sweets leaned forward. "Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

She shifted on the couch. She thought back at that horrible funeral…thinking Booth was dead…seeing him alive…and her first act was to punch him?

"I suppose…" she said. "I suppose Booth might have interpreted my behavior at the cemetery incorrectly."

Sweets nodded. "Now, since that time, have you ever expressed gratitude to him for taking the bullet for you?"

"I didn't ask him to!" Brennan argued. "I didn't _want_ him to!"

"Nevertheless, he did," Sweets said. "He put his life on the line to protect you. Have you ever talked about it?"

_"I took a bullet for you!"_

_"Once! That only goes so far!"_

Brennan swallowed. "It's possible…in the heat of the moment…that I might have…have minimized his act."

Sweets stared at her. "Possible?"

She groaned, falling back on the couch. "Fine. I belittled it. In his bathroom."

The psychologist sighed. "Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth, while very talented, is not a mind reader. Given your actions in regards to this, are you really surprised he believes you have no feelings towards him?"

"Sweets, don't tell me you think I'm in love with Booth!" Brennan said, straightening up. "We're just partners!"

"Just partners?" Sweets asked. "Not even friends?"

"Of course we're friends!"

"Do you believe your recent behavior indicates that?"

Brennan stared at the psychologist. He had no idea what he was suggesting. If she agreed with him that she hadn't expressed herself correctly, he'd want her to talk to Booth about it. She wasn't sure she could do that.

"Dr. Brennan," Sweets said. "I think you need to be honest with Agent Booth."

She shook her head. "I – I don't know if I can." She dropped her head, afraid that Sweets would ask her why. She didn't want to give him that much of her.

The psychologist's voice was gentle. "I think you need to try. If there's anyone you can be honest with, it's Agent Booth."

She took a deep breath. He was right. She hated it, but he was right. She had to deal with this.

Brennan grabbed her purse and stood. Before she turned to leave, she pinned Sweets with her blue eyes. "You know you _did_ deserve this. Reporting Booth for behaving inappropriately won't change that."

Sweets sighed, rubbing his face. "Okay, here's the deal. Convince Booth to resume our sessions and I'll chalk this up to some very intense therapy."

She considered it a moment and nodded. "Agreed."

Then she walked out of the office, on the lookout for a certain FBI agent…


	10. Why Were You Mad, Bones?

**A/N: I hope this chapter pays off for everyone! There's one more after this, I hope you have enjoyed this story!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own the show. Thanks for asking.**

The first place Brennan checked was Booth's office, but it was dark. She next tried calling him on her phone, but it went straight to voice mail.

She sighed and considered her options. There were a number of places Seeley Booth might go when upset, but she wasn't sure which one he'd pick this time. And if he wasn't going to take her calls, how could she arrange a meeting?

Brennan decided to drive to his apartment. When she got there, she saw that his SUV was nowhere in sight and the windows were dark.

Looking around to be sure no one was watching, she checked under the fake rock. Sure enough, he hadn't moved the key. _Doesn't he realize how dangerous this is?_

She let herself into his home, figuring no matter where he was at the moment, he'd come back here at some point. Brennan congratulated herself on coming to such a logical conclusion as she snapped on a light so she could see.

The last time she'd been here, she hadn't stopped to look around - she had been too focused on having it out with him. Brennan felt her cheeks grow hot as she remembered that evening, barging into his bathroom to rail at him for his lack of consideration.

She felt her lips twitch into a smile when she remembered how he looked, _very_ attractive, _very_ sexy even with that stupid beer helmet on…

She took a deep breath. _Focus, Temperance_. _You don't know when he'll be here and you don't want him to catch you fantasizing about his body…_

She studied his apartment. A worn leather couch sat in front of a small color television. A low wooden coffee table was littered with newspapers and sports magazines.

There was a bookshelf along one wall. There were DVD's there, including some Disney films (for Parker, no doubt), older books that looked like college texts, and each one of her novels. She brushed the spines, touched that he bought them.

There were pictures on top of the shelf. Booth with his arm around another man in uniform, who bore a resemblance to him. His brother, maybe? A couple of pictures of Parker. And, to her surprise, pictures of the two of them.

There was one of them that Angela snapped after the Halloween party. Brennan was dressed as Wonder Woman and Booth as a squint. They both looked a little worse for wear because they'd just finished catching a serial killer. But they were both grinning.

Brennan picked up another one – it had been taken at the reception of Hodgins and Angela's non-wedding. They stood at an angle towards each other, holding hands, facing the camera. Booth had just said something funny, and they were both laughing.

Brennan sighed, feeling her throat close up. He had this way of getting her to feel instead of coolly analyze. No matter how many locks she put on her emotions, he seemed to be able to pick them. It was something about him that frightened and angered her. Even though it was something she found herself grateful for from time to time.

She heard a key in the lock. Brennan quickly put the picture down and turned to face her partner.

When Booth opened the door, he took one look at his living room and suddenly his gun was out. "Okay! Hands up!"

"Booth!" she screamed, throwing her hands up. "It's me! It's Brennan!"

"Bones?" he took a good look at her and then, swearing, lowered his gun. "Thanks for the heart attack. Are you crazy breaking into my place again?"

She worked on getting her breathing under control as Booth slammed the door shut and holstered his gun. "I'm sorry. I didn't consider you might try to shoot me."

He winced. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't expect you to be here, and all I saw was someone standing in my apartment." He folded his arms over his chest and glared at her. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

She saw he was still angry. She mustered up her courage and said, "I need to talk to you. As soon as possible."

Booth stared at her, frowning. "Why? Did Sweets send you over to get me to be a good boy?"

"This has nothing to do with Sweets," she said. "Booth, I'm going to talk to you and I'm not leaving until I do."

He raised an eyebrow. "Bones, if I want to throw you out of here I can."

She shook her head. "While you have greater upper body strength than I do I am very skilled in martial arts. I think I'd make it quite difficult for you to eject me from your apartment."

Booth's eyes narrowed as he studied her. Brennan met his stare with hers, doing her best to look intimidating. In reality she hoped he was bluffing about throwing her out, because the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. Not tonight.

Finally, Booth sighed and threw his hands in the air. "Fine. You want to talk? Talk. Let's get it over with." He threw himself on his couch and folding his arms again looked up at her expectantly.

Brennan dropped her eyes to her shaking hands. She'd faced murderers. She'd dug in mass graves while men with guns stood around her. She'd been buried alive.

But what she was about to do would take more courage than any of those other things had.

"Well," she said, as the silence between them grew, "I've been considering the tension between us logically, so that I can understand your anger…"

A snort made her look up. Booth was frowning, his arms still crossed. "You still don't get it? What do you need Bones, a step-by-step analysis?"

Oops. Mistake. She'd retreated into cool logic, and it wasn't going to solve anything. Brennan gulped and decided to say the first thing that came into her head. _Think with your heart. Okay, here goes…_

"You don't really think I'd team up with Sweets to do an experiment on you, do you?" she blurted out.

Booth's eyes widened. Brennan didn't blame him – she was a little surprised at the question herself. But she did want to know.

After a moment, Booth's shoulders slumped. "No, Bones, I know you better than that," he said. "I was just furious at Sweets and you not telling me, all right?" He ran a hand through his hair, leaning forward on the couch. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," she said, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Okay," Booth said, getting to his feet. He seemed mesmerized by the newspaper headline on top of the coffee table. "So, was that it? That's what you needed to talk about?"

She almost said yes. But she knew that was her fear speaking, not her heart. And even ignoring Sweets' psychological babbling, there was a part of her that felt she owed her partner this truth. No matter what the cost.

"That night, when you got shot…" she began in a soft voice. She saw Booth's head jerk up, his startled eyes examining her face.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to go back to that horrible evening. "You were bleeding…you were bleeding so badly. I kept trying to make it stop. I kept talking to you, I thought if you lost consciousness it would be bad…"

"'Come on, Booth, come on,'" Booth muttered.

She started. "You heard me."

Booth nodded. "It was the last thing I remembered before I woke up at the hospital."

Brennan swallowed. _Don't cry. You're not allowed to cry right now_. She continued, working to keep her voice level. "The ambulance came, and I wanted to go with you, but the police wouldn't let me." A thread of anger seeped into her voice. "They said they had to ask me all these questions when it was perfectly clear what had happened!"

Booth couldn't hide a grin. "Protocol, Bones. You know about that."

She rolled her eyes. "It was unnecessary. While they were questioning me, they kept asking me if I wanted to clean up. I realized –" she gulped. "I realized I had your blood all over me. My hands, my shirt…"

Booth winced. "I'm sorry, Bones."

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. But I didn't want to take time to clean up. I wanted to get to the hospital. I kept telling them that."

She swallowed, wanting to moisten her dry throat. But she didn't want to ask Booth for water, fearing if she stopped she couldn't start this again. Booth stood in front of her, watching her carefully. She looked down at the cream carpet, unable to meet his eyes.

"Finally the FBI came and gave me permission to go. Angela drove me in my car, everyone else followed. We got to the hospital and waited. Angela wanted to take me to the bathroom and wash the blood off, but I didn't want to leave – I wanted to know you were all right…"

She remembered the feel of drying blood on her hands, the tackiness of it on her blouse. The tears threatened again, and for the second time she had to order herself to stop. She wouldn't cry. She would stay strong.

"Then…then Agent Adams came to the waiting room. And he told us…he told us you were dead." She had to gather herself a moment.

Booth took a step towards her, a hand out. Brennan took a step back, wrapping her arms around her body. "Don't. Please."

Booth froze. He lowered his hand and his voice, as if he were afraid of spooking her. "Bones…"

She started speaking again, the words coming faster. "I demanded to see your body. Adams said no. I demanded to see the doctor. Adams said he was busy. I…I shouted at him to get me Cullen. He said I couldn't, he was sorry." In spite of the emotions roiling inside her, a smile tugged at her lips. "I think I frightened him. He all but ran out of the room after he said he was sorry."

Booth grinned a bit. "Yeah, Adams told me later you spooked him pretty bad. But I didn't get a chance to ask about details."

She almost chuckled, but remembering what happened after that confrontation sobered her quickly.

"Angie and Hodgins were holding each other and crying," she said softly. "Cam was crying too. Zack…Zack looked lost. Like he didn't know how to act. Sweets just sat there stunned. Me…I just had to leave. I couldn't stay."

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She saw Booth reach for her and held up a hand to stop him. "Please, Booth. Just let me finish."

He lowered his hand but she saw the concern on his face. He seemed to know this was costing her, and while a part of her was grateful, another part wished he'd stay mad at her – it would make this so much easier.

"I drove home," she said. "On the way, Cam called to tell me the lab would be closed for the next two days, and Angie called to see if she should come over. I didn't want anyone over. I got home –"

This was hard. She shut her eyes, wishing she could shut out that night as easily.

"It was the first time I was alone and not doing something. Suddenly I could smell your blood…for the first time in years the smell of blood made me sick. I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

"Then I got into the shower with my clothes on. I ran it hot and when I saw your blood going down the drain I started to cry, because even though it doesn't make any logical sense I felt as if I was washing _you_ down the d-drain…"

She felt his hands on her arms. Her eyes flew open and she tried to pull away, but he held her gently. "Bones, shh, I'm right here."

Brennan shook her head. "You don't understand! I took those two days and cried more than I cried since I was 15! Then I could do what I always do – I could shut up my feelings and be strong!"

She slammed her fists against her partner's chest. "And then I get talked into going to your _stupid_ funeral where I have to fight to keep myself strong and then _you _show up like everything's fine and I was so _angry_ at you!"

"Why, Bones!" Booth asked, gripping her arms. "Why were you mad at me?"

"_Because you made me feel!_" she screamed at him. "All my life I stayed strong by not letting myself feel when people hurt me or left me! That's how I got through my parents leaving, Russ leaving, all the foster homes – and I couldn't do it with you because no matter what I did –" she punctuated the next four words by slamming her fists on Booth's chest for each one – "_you – made – me – feel!_"

Then it was as if a dam burst. Everything she'd gone through the past few weeks – Booth's "death" and reappearance, Zack's betrayal, even her father's trial – it all hit her at once. All the walls she'd locked her feelings behind collapsed and she broke down sobbing, burying her face into Booth's chest.

His arms went around her, a hand tracing soothing circles on her back. He spoke to her softly. "It's okay, Bones. It's okay. It's okay to feel."

She shook her head as she cried. "It's _weak_!" she gasped.

"No," he said gently. "It's never weak, Bones. You may think it made you strong to hide these things, but all they did was fester. Trust me, this is better."

Brennan lost track of time. Strangely, as she calmed, she found herself feeling better after such an outpouring of emotion. Maybe Booth had a point.

Then she realized she was in her partner's arms. _Very_ close to him. Her head buried in his chest.

Okay, this was _not_ appropriate.

Booth appeared to come to the same conclusion. As she moved to step back he loosened his hold on her so she was able to put some space between them

"Well, um…." she stammered, looking at a point of the wall behind Booth's left shoulder, "I am glad you're not dead, and I appreciate your taking a bullet for me, though I would've been happy to take it myself –"

"I get it, Bones," Booth said, raising his hands to stop her. "I'm glad I'm not dead too, and I don't regret what I did – I care about you."

Brennan's eyes widened. Booth spoke quickly. "I mean, as a really, really good friend and partner, Bones."

"Of course!" Brennan said nodding. "And I – I think of you as a valuable friend and colleague."

Her partner nodded. "Yeah." His mouth crooked into a grin. "Hey Bones, you eat dinner yet?"

She shook her head. "No. You?"

"Nope," he said. "How about the diner?"

"That sounds like a great idea," she said.

"Great!" Booth said. He looked down at the large damp spot on his shirt. "Um, let me get a clean shirt on and we'll go, okay?"

"Sure," Brennan agreed. She let out a sigh of relief while she waited for Booth. She'd done it – she'd told Booth how she felt and their partnership was secure. Everything was fine.

Molly Nunan's face drifted into her thoughts. She sighed again. Well, _almost_ everything.


	11. Closure

**A/N: Here it is - the last chapter! I hope you all enjoyed my first Bones multichap fic. Thank you for all your kind words.**

**Disclaimer: "Bones" is owned by Fox and Hart Hansen.**

As he sat across from Bones in the diner, Booth felt better than he had ever since he'd gotten shot by Pam Nunan. It was like any other time they'd eaten there together, he chowing down on a bacon cheeseburger with fries and coffee, she with a dinner-sized Caesar salad and the fries she managed to swipe off his plate.

He saw her face grow thoughtful as she swept a French fry through the pool of ketchup on his plate and eat half of it in one bite. She saw him looking at her and answered his unspoken question. "I was thinking about something Sweets said…"

Booth frowned. "Bones, I don't want to talk about the kid. In fact, he's lucky I didn't beat him to a bloody pulp before I left."

"You have every right to be angry at him," Bones said. "But Booth, he's not going to do something like that again. You scared him pretty badly."

"I did?" Booth felt pleased.

Bones smiled. "He was shaking for a number of minutes after you left." She grew serious. "You know it would cause a lot of problems for us if we stop therapy. And Sweets can be useful."

"You're right," Booth said with a sigh. "But he pulls something like that again, I _will_ shoot him, Bones. What he did was wrong."

"I know," Bones said. Her face grew thoughtful again. "But sometimes he's right. That's why I'm trying to understand what he meant by saying I'd suffered a loss like Molly Nunan did."

Booth let himself think about that for a moment. "Well, there's more than one answer to that, Bones. You thought you lost me, but in a way, you _did_ lose someone."

"I don't know -" she stopped a minute, and suddenly understood who Booth meant. She glanced at her watch. "Is it too late to call them?"

"Call who?" Booth was confused.

"Pam Nunan and Carol Murphy."

"What?" Booth stared at her with a ketchup coated French fry halfway to his mouth. "You want to talk to them all of a sudden? Why?"

She gave a small smile as she reached over and snatched another fry from Booth's plate. "Because I know what to say now."

#

The next day Brennan sat in her office nervously waiting for Carol Murphy and Molly Nunan to arrive. Booth sat on her couch, one knee bouncing up and down.

"Bones, are you sure you don't want to wait until I can get Caroline Julian down here?" he asked for the fifth time. "You know, a lawyer listening in on this could be helpful."

"Booth, a lawyer would present a hostile environment. You're here – that's all the help I need," Brennan answered, trying to inject confidence she didn't fully feel in her voice.

Her partner shook his head. "I wish you'd tell me what you plan to do."

"You'll know soon enough," she said, looking out the window behind him. She stood up. "They're here."

Booth got to his feet and watched as a security guard led the two older women to Brennan's office. They looked about the same as the last time they'd been at the Jeffersonian. Molly was clutching a book to her chest almost like a shield.

Brennan watched as Booth opened the door and waved the pair of women in. Carol and Molly took seats side by side on the couch. After thanking the security guard, Booth stepped out of the office a moment, returning with a rolling chair he pulled next to Brennan and dropped into.

Brennan studied the two women in front of her. Mostly she focused on Molly Nunan. The woman was tense, looking around the office, still clutching the book to her. Brennan realized that it was a school yearbook.

The silence between the four of them grew and Brennan decided she'd have to be the one to break it. She swallowed and said, "Mrs. Nunan, thank you for agreeing to come here. I understand it must be hard for you."

"It is," Molly said, her face pale. Slowly, she lowered the dark green covered book to her lap and opened it to a bookmarked page. "This was Pam's senior picture."

Brennan leaned forward to look at the black-and-white head shot. Pam's hair was about the same length it had been when Brennan met her. She was quite heavy, more than she had been, but she was smiling and her eyes were sparkling.

With a nod, Brennan leaned back. "It's a lovely picture. I know how hard this must be for you…"

"Do you?" Molly Nunan's eyes blazed. "Do you know what it's like to love a child and then be told this precious human being is an insane murderer? With no one understanding how you feel? Do you really know that?"

Brennan felt Booth tense next to her, and she knew he was getting ready to stop this conversation. She spoke quickly. "Actually, I understand it to an extent."

Molly scoffed and sat back. "Oh really? How, Dr. Brennan? How can you possibly understand?"

Brennan felt her palms grow damp. She was glad Booth was there, he'd help her do this. She wiped her hands on her pants and took a deep breath.

"There was a young man who worked her with me," she said, her eyes going to the window in her office. The platform was out there, and Limbo…she could still see him there, working with her.

She bit her lip and continued. "His name was Zack. He was one of my grad students. He became more…he became a part of my family."

_"There's more than one kind of family, Bones."_

She remembered when Booth had told her that. Now his hand rested lightly on he shoulder, giving her encouragement. She knew at that moment she was doing the right thing.

"You have to understand," Brennan said, now looking at Molly Nunan, who still looked somewhat skeptical. "My parents disappeared when I was 15, my brother not too long after that. For a long time I didn't have many close relationships. Zack, along with the people here…we became a kind of family."

Carol Murphy was nodding at these words. Molly frowned, but she was listening, that's all Brennan wanted at the moment.

"Zack was too old to ever have been my biological son," she said, "but I was his mentor…the person he looked up to, sought to learn from. And I taught him, I thought, how to think…but…"

She had to stop to take a deep breath. Booth squeezed her shoulder. "You okay Bones?"

Brennan nodded and blinked back the wetness in her eyes. That seemed to affect Molly. She studied Brennan, leaning forward slightly.

"We were dealing with the case of a serial killer who…who ate his victims. You might have heard about it on the news," Brennan said.

Carol nodded. "Yes. That was a horrible situation."

Molly nodded. "You caught him though, right?"

"Yes," Brennan said. "But not before we…_I_…discovered that Zack was working with him. As his apprentice."

Molly's breath caught. "He – he was? He ate people?

"No," Brennan shook her head. "But he killed someone for him." She had to take a moment to steady her breathing. Molly's eyes were wide, her gaze locked on Brennan.

"I didn't want to believe it," Brennan continued. "This was Zack…I thought I knew him. The person I knew – he'd never do something like this, how could he justify it?"

"Did he?" Molly's voice was low, horrified.

Brennan nodded. "He did. He relied on faulty logic. I thought…I thought I'd failed him, somehow, that I could've stopped this."

She took a deep breath and looked at Booth. He gave her a small smile and a nod. _You're doing fine_, his expression told her.

She turned back to the two women. "I had to realize that Zack made his own choices, and I couldn't take blame or credit for them. It hurt me so much that he did what he did, and I was so angry, so hurt…"

"What happened to him?" this was from Carol Murphy.

"He was judged mentally unstable and placed in a facility," Brennan said. "He's been there for a few weeks."

"Have you seen him?" Molly asked.

That was the question that Brennan had wrestled with since she'd decided to have this conversation. "No," she said softly. "I – I've been confused."

"Confused?" Molly asked.

Brennan nodded. "You see, I can't excuse what he did – my life's work is stopping people like him – but I still – I still care about him." She sighed. "I'm not good with emotions, but I ask myself how I can care about him given the terrible things he did."

Molly drew a shuddering breath. "I – I understand." She swiped at her eyes. "I don't want to believe Pam could do what everyone – even Carol – says she did. How could I love someone like that? But I _do_ love her. Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth, can you possibly understand that?"

"Yes," Booth said, without hesitation.

"I think so," Brennan said. "I wish things hadn't happened as they did, Mrs. Nunan. I wish I could give you something more than the truth. But I'm not asking you not to love your daughter, and I don't blame you for what she did."

Molly's tears were falling fast. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Carol put an arm around her friend.

Brennan watched, not sure what else she could say or do. She looked over at Booth. He reached over and squeezed her hand. "It's okay," he said softly.

Molly lifted her head, her face red and blotchy. "Dr. Brennan, I wish I could say I forgive you for what you did. Carol and others would tell me I should." She took a deep shuddering breath and said, "But I _can't_. I hope someday I will be able to."

Her shoulders sagging, Brennan sighed. "I – I suppose I understand."

Molly hesitated, then reached out to Brennan, the touch to the anthropologist's hand feather-light. "I _am_ sorry I hit you earlier. And – and I won't trouble you any more. I just – I just need time."

"Of course," Brennan said. She stood as the two women rose to their feet. "Mrs. Nunan, Mrs. Murphy, I wish the best for you both."

"Thank you," Molly said, the yearbook once again clutched to her chest.

"I wish the same for you, Dr. Brennan," Carol said, her arm around Molly. "And thank you for the truth."

Booth stood. "I'll escort you ladies out."

Brennan watched the trio walk out, feeling defeated. She sank back into her chair, her thoughts filled with Zack.

Booth came back moments later. "I'm proud of you, Bones."

"Why?" she asked, surprised. "She didn't forgive me. It didn't do anything."

"That's where you're wrong," Booth said. "You made her see you as another human being, not just a thing to hate. And you showed her you got it. She'll probably be able to move on now."

"But…"

"No buts," Booth said, holding up a hand. "As for the forgiveness part…that will take time, Bones. I get that. Be patient, it'll happen. And she's accepted things enough that you don't have to worry about her."

Brennan sighed. She wanted to believe Booth…"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Booth said. He stood. "You eat breakfast?"

She smiled. "I was too nervous."

"Well, you think Cam would let me feed you?" Booth looked at his watch. "We can call it brunch."

"That sounds like a good idea," Brennan said, reaching down to grab her purse. "Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Sure," Booth said, his hands in his pockets. "What do you need?"

She looked at a picture on her desk – a picture of the gang at the last Christmas party. Zack was there, smiling at her.

Molly Nunan might need time, but for Brennan, the time was now.

"If I make an appointment to visit Zack…would you come with me?"

Booth smiled at her, and reached out to give her a "guy hug." "Sure, Bones."

She smiled at him as they left the office. "Thank you, Booth. Thank you for helping me see this through."

He smiled back at her as they headed to Cam's office. "Anytime, Bones. Anytime."


End file.
